Where Are They Now?
by Schweetpea1870
Summary: The year is 2020... 12 years later after the riveting presidential election. The host returns to follow-up with some of the original guests from the previous Woodcrest documentary. For reference, re-watch the "It's A Black President, Huey Freeman" episode. Inspired from the illustrations of Marcus Williams, AKA @marcusthevisual, as shown in the cover image.
1. Part 1

New short-story alert!

As explained in the summary, this story is modeled after the interview style from Season 3's premiere episode: _It's A Black President, Huey Freeman_. As the title indicates, it is very much a "where are they now" angle for some of our favorite Boondocks characters.

However… the inspiration and motivation to even create this story comes entirely from **Marcus Williams, AKA** _** marcusthevisual**_ on Instagram. In 2017, he did several illustrations on the characters along with descriptions on a reimagined version of them all in their 20's. To find, Google "_Marcus Williams Boondocks_" and it should be one of the first links from a website called Konbini. I'm late as hell, but I saw these illustrations recently for the first time and was instantly blown away. Ever since I saw them I had the inspiration to do a story based on his version and his vision for the characters.

So before you read: go look at his work right now and support, read the descriptions found on his IG, do a quick recap of S03 E01, grab your popcorn, and get comfy. Cuz we goin' in.

Disclaimer: I **do not** own any part of Aaron McGruder's _The Boondocks_ or any of his characters.

* * *

_In 2008, history was made as the first African-American man became President of the United States. During that time, I had the opportunity to interview one family in particular regarding their thoughts on the election. _

_It has now been 12 years since that time._

_I have decided to return to Woodcrest, Maryland to reunite with this family and conduct a follow-up. It seems that much has changed in the time since, including the world, government, and in each of their personal lives._

_In this exclusive documentary, I, Werner Herzog, brave myself to revisit with some of the most dysfunctional people I've ever met…_

_The Freeman Family. Where are they now…? We'll soon find out._

* * *

The house appeared exactly the way it did the last time I had visited, all those years ago. As I rang the doorbell and heard the approaching footsteps, I wondered how much had changed from within.

Upon the door being swung open and first impression, it almost seemed like much had not.

"Who the hell are y'all, ringin' my damn bell? And what's with the cameras?"

And while I had expected to be met again to the boy with the permanent scowl, his grandfather mirrored a close second in comparison, as he glanced wildly among our crew.

I stared at Robert Jebediah Freeman in disbelief. Much like his house, the man looked exactly the same as the first time. It was as if he hadn't aged a day, which was mildly alarming, considering the original age estimate we believed him to be. The world may never know the answer to that mystery.

"I am Werner Herzog, Mr. Freeman." I re-introduced myself. "We're here for the follow-up documentary."

"Werner Who-now?" Robert squinted at me in confusion.

"Werner Herzog. We've been emailing about this interview for weeks."

"Uhhh…?" He stared at me blankly.

"I literally confirmed with you via Skype yesterday."

"Hmmm, I don't _remember_ ever seeing you." He gave me a distrustful look.

I held back my sigh. "I came here 12 years ago during the election and inauguration for President Barack Obama."

"My man _Obama_!" His face lit up slightly, emphasizing the former president's name. "Did I ever tell you about the time, him, Michelle, and Beyoncé and I were on a yacht?"

I blinked at him as he went on, gesturing dramatically as he did so while he turned to face the cameras more. I watched silently, even more convinced of my previous diagnosis.

_Dementia… this man most certainly suffers from dementia._

After fifteen minutes of Robert still spewing nonsensical lies, my hand slowly found its way into the depths of my blazer to hold my pocketknife. I deeply considered ending it all, but fell short yet again as I released my grip. We had since moved into the foyer in an effort not to "waste up his A/C", though I would've much rather burned myself alive in the sun than listen to him continue to ramble.

It seemed like an act of God when Robert paused to cough, and I immediately took the opportunity. "Is Huey ready for the interview?"

"Huh? Yeah, he up there somewhere. But uh, don't you wanna finish my interview? The cameras were rolling, right?"

"Of course." I lied to his face, knowing the cameraman had stopped recording within moments of Robert's first story. "We'll finish up your segment later. In the meantime, we'll schedule Huey in next."

Robert shrugged in return before lifting his head to the ceiling. "BOOOOYYYY! Wilbur Hodgepodge is here for you!"

"It's Werner Herzog." I corrected, but noticed a deeper voice say in unison from behind me.

I turned around to the stairwell, immediately meeting an intense set of eyes I would never forget, looming down at me from the top.

I stared at the young man as he began his descent down the steps. He kept strong eye contact with me while he did so, having that same indifferent expression that still haunted my nightmares to this day. Shockingly, his incredibly large hair seemed even larger if possible, still styled in the same natural afro he had worn it in previously. Aside from the thin stubble mustache he had connected to the goatee beard on his chin, his face had not changed much. It had only developed and matured with age, the same way the rest of him did.

Even with both feet now on the ground, he still towered slightly over me, well over six-foot with the hair. He had filled out and broadened overall in size, now with noticeable muscle added to his build. And alas, even in his adult years, his wardrobe still had such a militant look to it. He stood in front of me unwaveringly wearing an open army-green button up over a white T-shirt, dark jeans, brown boots, and was carrying an inconspicuous black bookbag over his shoulder.

I noticed the way he slightly shifted the bag behind him more, now out of clear view from the cameras, and I felt an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. My intuition told me there was a good possibility I could die today at the hands of the Freeman clan, but at least it would not be in vain. If nothing else, I was going to finish this documentary… or die trying.

"It's been a long time." I greeted, brushing past thoughts of my impending demise as I stared at him. He blinked back stoically in return.

"Eh." He replied after a beat. "Time is a construct."

_This fucking kid._

* * *

_**Huey Freeman, 22-year old retired (TBD) domestic terrorist.**_

* * *

I blinked at him in silence, staring back at his apathetic expression. He looked about as miserable as he had the last time around. There was a distinct feeling of déjà vu as the crew bustled around the kitchen over sound and lighting, already having the cameras faced directly at me from across the table. By now I was used to settings like this, it didn't deter me. I just wanted to get this over with.

"So…?" I raised an eyebrow at Werner Herzog, now seated opposite from me at the kitchen table. He had yet to begin and I had places to be. "Are we ready to get started?"

"About." He replied, continuing to stare at me blankly with his hands folded. "Are you ready?"

In response, I reached into the bag I had tucked beneath the table. I slid my black journal out from the front pocket and set it down, beginning to flip to the section I'd been working on. The one I'd spent the past few weeks pouring my thoughts out regarding the current state of the government and what it means for our world and future moving forward.

If they wanted the truth, if they were _truly_ asking for my raw and honest thoughts… I'd give it to them.

"Yes." I confirmed with a slight nod.

Herzog glanced down a bit at the notebook. "Did you… prepare something?"

"I did." I nodded again. Admittedly, I had been vague the last time during the documentary. I would _not_ be this time.

"Your grandfather didn't mention?"

I stared at him, holding in the sigh. "Mention what?"

Herzog wasn't able to keep his contained as he leaned back slightly in his seat. "Huey, do you know how many views our last interview received?" He continued after my blank expression in response. "To be frank, the last biopic we did among you and your family and friends, went on to become one of my most popular documentaries ever."

"You're kidding." I deadpanned. That _had_ to be a joke.

"I do not kid." He replied vacantly. "Are you familiar with my film, _Grizzly Man_?"

"Yes."

"Are you also familiar with my films, _Into The Inferno, Encounters at the End of the World, Lessons Of Darkness, _and/or_ Fata Morgana?_" He rattled off.

"Yes." I answered the same way.

"The Freeman documentary has surpassed _all _of those combined as far as views and popularity."

Damn. He sounded noticeably salty about that fact, which was only slightly amusing, but I kept my indifferent expression.

"So what does that mean for this interview?"

"For some reason, you and your family have an extremely large audience. The number of requests to do a part two for this documentary has been overwhelming."

"Okay…?"

"However, your 'fans' are more interested to learn about each of you in particular. For example, things that have transpired over the recent years, where you are at now in your lives as far as career, relationships, et cetera, et cetera."

"…Seriously?"

"Contritely."

"So you're _not_ here to discuss politics?"

"This is not meant to be a political story, no."

I blinked at that, redirecting my head downwards to my journal. With a heavy sigh, I closed the cover.

I guess the lid to Pandora's box would have to stay shut for now.

"Okay then." I finally relented. "I can answer some questions for awhile, but I have a rally I have to attend after this."

"What type of rally will you be participating in?"

"I'll be one of the keynote speakers for a Black Lives Matter event downtown."

"That sounds like a big deal."

"Eh." I shrugged nonchalantly, noticing the way Herzog's stare always seemed to harden at that. In hindsight, I suppose it _could_ be considered a big deal. The BLM chapter had only been requesting me to speak for the past several months but… I've been busy.

"Do you believe it will be a peaceful gathering or otherwise?" He asked, obviously implying whether it would turn violent.

"Depends." I answered honestly. Of all the rallies I've attended over the years, there have only been a handful that have escalated. And from the situations I have _personally_ seen first-hand… it has always been from the result of being provoked or targeted by the security/law enforcement involved.

For that reason, I _always_ kept my enhanced set of Black Power Fists ready at my disposal. I didn't have them the day I witnessed the first rally encounter. Granted, I still kicked that mall-cop's ass without them, but it might not always be that easy. Which is why I needed to stay strapped just in case.

_But that information doesn't need to be documented_. I thought to myself, shifting my bag a bit more under the table with my foot.

"So then, in terms of your career: what exactly do you do? Are you a member or employee of the Black Lives Matter organization?" Herzog asked.

"I'm a member, yes. But as far as what I do, I've founded my own organizations."

"You have plural organizations?"

"Less than I used to." I said wryly, thinking back to the 23 I had initially started with. A little overkill maybe, but they had since merged and overlapped into the groups I have established now, so it hadn't been a waste.

"I'm the founder of three radical leftist organizations: Africans Fighting Racism and Oppression, the Black Revolutionary Organization, and the Black Revolutionary Underground Heroes."

"So… otherwise known as AFRO, BRO, and… BRUH?"

"Yeah." I shrugged. "I've had these groups in development for years, but over the last several we've been able to really establish ourselves to the point where we're now recognized on a national level."

"That must be a proud accomplishment for you."

"Pride leads to destruction." I responded plainly.

He stared at me in silence for a few moments before continuing. "So then, in addition to your organizations, does that sum up your career goals? What is your big-picture plan?"

"It barely scratches the surface." I told him at once. "My plan is to promote change. For my people and everyone worldwide."

"What do you think of the current climate in our world today?"

I stared at him in seriousness, slightly cocking my head to the side while I tried not to noticeably narrow my eyes. That wasn't even worthy of a verbal response.

"Can your fans assume that you're not a supporter of the current President?"

I turned my head to steadily face the camera with a slow blink. "They can assume whatever they'd like."

"Without delving _fully_ in, any brief thoughts you'd like to share?"

I shrugged, still staring at the camera. "The man has a lot of enemies. Be a shame if something should happen to him."

"…Do you still consider yourself retired?"

I turned back to Herzog, now staring at me with an unreadable expression. I blinked at him silently in return before checking my watch.

"Next topic please, I'm going to be cutting it a little close."

And there wasn't enough time to go into _that_.

He still looked slightly apprehensive, but cleared his throat after a moment to continue. "There's been word that you've been scouted out by the NAACP. Is this true?"

I debated on sharing for a brief moment before supplying a light nod. It was bound to come out sooner or later. "That information is accurate."

"In what ways will you be involved with them?"

"As of last week, I've signed on to be their official Administrator of African-American Contemporary Issues." I revealed.

"Is that a new position within the organization?"

"Very." I confirmed, as both the title and role had been created especially for me. "Basically, they've requested my help for further ways to bring awareness and understanding about the plight of young black people. They also want me to act as a platform for them, to help keep them updated about what the day in the life of a young black person looks like these days. Because obviously it's not the same as what it was back in the 1900's."

"That sounds like a big undertaking."

I shrugged. The life of a black hero has never been for the meek of heart.

"Are you residing in Woodcrest still or have you since relocated to be closer to the city?"

"I have a house in Baltimore now. But I come home every weekend to help out my Granddad."

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"Excuse me?" I asked, thrown off by the sudden topic change.

"Your fans want to know."

"I don't date really."

"So you've dated before?"

"I didn't say that."

"You said really. So does that mean you're single?"

"What does _that_ have to do with—"

"That is one of the top questions your fans want to know from you." Herzog explained, and I shook my head at that. It seemed completely ridiculous.

"I have time for one last _serious_ question." I emphasized. "I have to head out in about five minutes." Werner Herzog considered for a moment while he glanced down at his notes.

"Final question… do you have any regrets about not leaving the country?"

I stared at him. _That_ was the last real question he wanted to ask?

"Regrets?" I practically scoffed. "_Regrets_? Did Pete Best regret leaving the Beatles?"

"…Who?"

"_Exactly_." I glared, proving my point as I felt the irritation rise. "How could one _regret_ staying in the land of modern day lynchings, mass shootings, and all-around homegrown terrorism? Who wouldn't _love_ living in a place where you get to spend the rest of your life working a dead-end job just to pay off your student loans right before you die from a man-made illness you can't afford to cure? I'm _thrilled_ to be where little boys get gunned down for playing with toy guns at the park and men get murdered for selling loose cigarettes. After all, we do have our Commander-in-Chief guiding us, right? You know, the same one who goes around grabbing women by the p—"

"Sorry to interrupt Huey," Herzog slightly raised his hand, glancing down at the phone now in his hands. "Incoming question from a fan on Twitter who wants to know who you're currently dating at the moment. It's already gaining _many_ retweets. Do you have a response?"

I glanced incredulously between him and the camera blankly before starting to rise from my seat.

"No comment."

I began un-wiring myself free of the microphones as the crew started to shift and talk a bit. Werner Herzog slowly stood from his chair before approaching me.

"Thank you for your time today, Huey. I'm sure your fans will thank you as well."

"I'm sure." I replied dryly. "Do you have what you need mostly?"

"For now." He nodded. "Next on the agenda would be—"

"_WHAADUUUUUP?!"_

I let out a heavy eyeroll as we all turned our heads towards the loud and sudden intrusion.

The one that came from my annoying-ass brother, now leaning casually in the kitchen doorway with a shit-eating smirk.

"_MY_ turn to shine, niggas!"

* * *

Part two of the interview coming soon… :)

**PSA**: Also friends, when I say this a short-story, this is _SHORT_ story. Like 3-5 chapters max. When it's done, it's done. It was supposed to be a one-shot, but got too long XD

**Very special extra-loud shoutout to OG veteran and the real one: ****LovinHueyFreeman**. Because without her help… this story would not have happened, y'all. Would've _been_ cancelled. Especially this chapter. She has Huey's name in her username for a reason, she is the true VIP. The "regrets" dialogue scene at the very end was all her creation and suggestion, periodtttt. Thank you again so much girl for the collab help!

And again, go check out _** marcusthevisual**_ on Instagram and look at all his work, it's incredible! Like it, heart it, support, and follow asapppp!

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think!

~Schweetie


	2. Part 2

Chapter 2 is here featuring you-know-who ;)

**Thank you so much for all the peeps who have currently read, favorited, followed, and of course reviewed to show love!**

LovinHueyFreeman: Thank you again soooo much for the love and support, girl! You already know that Huey's my hardest. To ME at least. You on the other hand always have and always will be the GOAT to write for him! Which reminds me, where's your next chapter?

garmonytariq: Thank you so much! And ahhh possibly! I'll be honest, my preference to write for his Riley, Huey is definitely my hardest to write for and I haven't yet done a standalone story/oneshot for him. You know an author who's _really_ good at Huey stories though? The author above you, LovinHueyFreeman. As I told her, she's the GOAT and nails him to a T. Check her out and support, you won't regret it ;)

Your Hitta: Hahaha thanks so much! And you already know this dude be having the craziest thoughts! And I love writing for Granddad, he stays the same. So does Huey LOL :) Ya boy has arrived! Let me know what you think :)

Disclaimer: I **do not** own any part of Aaron McGruder's _The Boondocks_ or any of his characters.

* * *

I stared at the youngest member of the Freeman family as he stood at the kitchen entrance. Much like his brother, he had grown exceptionally since our previous encounter. In contrast to the small boy with braids and the permanent smirk, a young man stood in his place with a much shorter head of hair… though he did seem to have kept that same smirk.

"What's good in this bitch?" He said, seemingly by way of greeting as he approached us. He stood to about the same height as his brother, the two of them favoring each other even more in their adult years.

Facially that is. Aside from that, they both had completely different styles. In comparison to Huey's typical look, his younger sibling had a much more attention-seeking style about him. He came striding into the room wearing nothing but a white muscle tank, black jeans sagging to display the start of his red boxers, and an almost matching pair of bright red high-top sneakers.

Aside from the clothes alone, everything about him practically screamed _look at me_. With his dozens of tattoos covering the spaces along his defined arms, the gold chains around his neck, the studded diamonds in his ears, and his fitted Chicago Bulls cap worn backwards on his head…

He seemed so _obviously_ ready for his featured camera-time.

"Perfect timing, Riley." Huey responded dryly, lifting his mysterious bookbag from the ground to sling over his shoulder. "I've got to head out and you're next."

"Duh, nigga." He brushed off in return before nodding his head towards me. "What it do, man? I know you recognize me. And I _know_ my fans be recognizin' a nigga outchea!" He turned towards the cameras just as easily, lifting his hands into random gang signs.

"Y'all got these cameras rollin', right?" He asked while he posed. One of the cameramen in charge of a handheld nodded with a shrug, the red light displayed as on. "Aw _hell_ yeah!"

Huey rolled his eyes as he composed a text and I cleared my throat to address his brother, who was still posing. "Would you like to sit down so we can get started and beg—"

"Nah."

"Excuse me?" I asked, already wanting to find a wire cord to hang myself with.

"Nah." He repeated, shaking his head. "We goin' to _my_ place for the interview. Y'all can film and record my shit there."

"Seriously? This isn't _Cribs_." Huey glanced up from his phone, giving his brother a look. "Don't you think that's a bit much?"

"Nigga, hop the fuck off my nuts, it's just down the block!" Came the quick retort in return. He then turned towards the cameras. "Aiight y'all, pack ya shit and let's go. A nigga be ready for his close-up, feel me?"

"Whatever." Huey sighed. "Just remember to take them to Jazmine's house afterwards for her segment. She's still planned on your schedule, correct?" He glanced at me in question.

"Yes, since her parents are both unavailable." I confirmed.

Huey nodded at that before turning back to his brother. "Don't forget."

He sucked his teeth loudly in return. "Yeah nigga, I'll take 'em to your secret-ass lightskindded girlfriend."

"Shut up." Huey rolled his eyes at him while I looked peripherally towards my crew. The cameraman slyly inched a step closer while the audio operator seemed to be modulating the controls on her equipment as she watched.

That mischievous smirk returned to his brother's face, giving a side glance to the cameras. "Shawty went and turned into a _fine_ lil yellowbone too, I ain't even gon' hold ya. Fine, bad, _and_ thic—"

"Riley…" Huey's tone had a dangerous edge that made him pause mid-sentence. "Unless you want to get knocked the fuck out on camera, shut your dumbass up." He ordered, shouldering him purposely hard as he passed by without another word.

"It's Reezy, nigga!" He barked at his turned back, clearly biting back the groan as he held his shoulder to roll it forward. He glanced back towards us immediately after, dropping his hand. "Aye, edit that shit out."

"Of course." I lied to his face. If anything, I had to find _some_ joy throughout the process of these interviews. Huey Freeman was still the most depressing fucking kid I've ever met in my life, but his brother was just... something else.

Between the two of them, I still needed to find a cord that was long enough.

* * *

_**Riley Freeman, 20-year old commercialized hoodlum.**_

* * *

"_Whooo_, she rides nice, don't she?" I said aloud as I stepped out from my car. I smirked back at the other three, staggering out of the backseat all unsteady as hell. Except for what's-his-name, who I let ride in the passenger seat.

Damn, he _still_ looked miserable as fuck. Always looking like he was thinking some heavy-ass suicidal shit and staring in silence at me like I did something. Only thing I _did_ do was bless his ass with a ride in the Lambo. Yeah, maybe I drove a little fast. Maybe I took an extra lap around the block just because. But shit, they all should be grateful I even let them _sit_ in the whip.

But lucky for them, I was in a good mood. Considering we were gonna talk about my favorite subject.

"Aiight, y'all ready?" I asked, pressing the button on my fob to lower the car doors once they moved out of the way. The crew nodded before moving to approach up my walkway, but I hit them with the stiff-arm and moved in front of them. "Whoa-whoa-whoa, not _yet_. Get your camera ready holmes, what's up?" I gave the guy a dirty look.

The interviewer gave me that blank stare again. "Can't we wait until we get inside to set up in your living room, kitchen, or wherever you—"

"BOOOOO, nigga that's lame!" I cut him off right away. "And I ain't about the lame shit. This is gonna be a travelin' interview, boy."

"…Meaning?"

"What I said. We walkin' and talkin' while we doin' this shit in one shot. Let's call it _73 Questions With Reezy_."

"One, I will not be asking you _nearly_ that many questions. And secondly, we would get sued."

I sucked my teeth at ole hatin'-ass. "Whateva. Pull up your questions and get the camera rollin', let's do this." I said, forcing the smirk on my face as I crossed my arms.

If they were gonna film me then shit, they were gonna get me right. In _all_ my shine, period.

As soon as that red camera light came on, I began before what's-his-name could even open his mouth. "What's up y'all, it's ya boy Young Reezy, back at it again with another interview." I spoke with ease to the camera as usual. "But this time I'm comin' at you a lil different. For the first time ever, I'm gonna treat y'all to an exclusive look into my new house while I answer some never-before-asked questions, all at the same damn time. So yeah, you're welcome. Hit me with that first question and follow me." I gave a head nod to the camera and the interviewer before turning around to lead them up the walkway. I heard them follow behind me before a throat was cleared.

"For our first question and using one word… would you still describe yourself as a quote, 'real nigga', unquote?" I snickered as I unlocked the passcode to my door before turning around, not yet opening it.

I grinned at the camera. "Maaann, using one word I would describe myself as a _real_ nigga, a _rich_ nigga, a _boss_ nigga… no nigga can top me, son! See for yourself." I boasted, swinging open the door to step inside and allowing them into my foyer. It was on that pristine level with its marble staircase, all-white interior, and had you feeling that luxury vibe just by walking through the door.

"Welcome to my crib." I shrugged coolly before closing the door. "Come with me, I'll give y'all the grand tour. And fire away with those questions, a nigga be ready."

"For those of your fans who don't already know, _how_ in fact did you get to be…." The interviewer trailed off as he looked around, seeming to be at a slight loss for words.

"A rich nigga?" I smirked at him.

"In essence." He supplied dryly.

"Well now, I can't give away _all_ my secrets." I continued to grin, leading the way again towards the next room. "But if you're asking how I went from what some haters call my fifteen minutes of fame to my currently famous _life_…?" I gestured around my grand living room as I strolled in, allowing them to take a good look. Then I turned back to the camera.

"The answer is that I _work_ for it and have _always_ been about my hustle. I've been business-minded since the time I was eight. And now at age twenty, I've become an entrepreneur. And my own boss."

I wasn't about to say the words on camera, only because I hate when niggas try to use the term as a put-down, but I could admit...

I had become Insta-famous.

I've always had an above average number of followers, just based on my known connections with Thugnificent, Xzibit, and obviously Ed Wuncler III. But three years ago, my page _and_ my name blew up overnight after a live-stream video I was in with the Lethal Interjection crew went viral.

It had been so spontaneous and random, and had actually happened the night of my 17th birthday. We had celebrated this big party at Thug's and I obviously had gotten a little lit (not that it can ever be proven from the video). I don't even remember what led me to say the things I said in the video, but Thugnificent had caught it _all_ on his Instagram story. It wasn't an extremely long video. And it wasn't anything crazy. I had just gotten on a roll about something and, as usual, was talking my shit and keeping it real. Just doing me.

And people ate it _up_.

I woke up that next morning to thousands of new followers. The video was playing on The Shade Room. #YoungReezy was trending on Twitter at one point. It got _mad_ traffic. And the majority of the reactions and comments were positive. People thought I was on _point_. Thought I was _hilarious_. The women thought I was sexy, which _obviously_. A nigga went from being just street-known to well-known worldwide over the course of one night, and I wasn't about to let that slip away. So I did what I do best: hustle.

People already liked what Wendy Williams deemed my "bad boy thuggin' personality," which honestly was just me. So I showcased that more and continued to put myself out there. From my artwork murals and tagging, to my basketball skill videos, even by doing a few freestyle raps online, I marketed the hell out of myself. Within the first year I had several sponsors. By the next, I had developed even more into my own official brand with my own gear to go with it. And this year? _Big_ things were in development and on the way. Things I couldn't even legally disclose yet.

2020 is _already_ lit for your boy. And shit, it's only just the beginning.

"Let's talk about what motivates you." The interviewer spoke again after the cameraman refocused back on me after getting some shots of the room. "What or who is your motivation?"

"You always gotta be your number one fan and your number one motivator, y'all." I responded easily. "So me. And my paper, obviously. Y'all wanna beer?" I asked, heading into the open space of my kitchen.

"Why do you have alcohol when you are only twenty?" His smartass asked next. "You _do_ realize that possession is against the law?"

Nope, but good looking out. "Because I'm an _entertainer_." I gave the camera an honest look when I turned back from the fridge, but held a Red Bull instead of the bottle I had originally been reaching for. "And I was kidding, relax. Next question." I told him, sliding the can across the island to the one crew member.

"How often do you stay in touch with your fans?"

"On a daily basis. The Reezy Riders are my real niggas for life." I pointed towards the camera with a smirk before showing them out of the room and into the adjacent dining room. I was deadass too. I took my fan engagement very seriously, and I knew it was a big reason why I continued to grow my following. Whether it was through posts, live-streams, meetups, what_ever_, I was always in connection with them.

"Is it true they played a part in the change of your hair?"

I glanced back at the camera as I led them through the game room next. "You already know." I grinned, lifting my snapback to readjust and give them a brief view of the fresh new cut. The fans really _had_ been the main reason I had gotten it chopped for the first time about a year ago… kinda. I had been slightly under the influence (again, not provable) when I posted a poll to my audience on whether I should continue to grow my braids long or if I should get a new look. Initially I'd been lowkey pissed at myself when I found out the second option had won, and almost offended at the majority of votes. But I wasn't no punk and had to follow through with it. I didn't know _how_ to feel when I stared into the mirror for the first time after the cut, I felt like I barely recognized myself.

But shit, the response… was _all_ the way worth it. The textured sponge-curl style I had gotten along with the crisp fade got me a new boost in followers all on its own. Bitches had already thought I was sexy but _damn_. They were all about it. And all about _me_. It had still taken a good while for me to get used to, but the reaction definitely made it easier.

"Which social media platform are you most prominent on?"

"I'm verified on _every_ platform, so I stay constant on all of them." I told him as we wrapped back into the foyer. I turned around as I headed up the staircase, now slowly walking backwards. "But if I had to choose _one_… I'm goin' with Instagram. It's where it all began and honestly, a nigga be addicted." I admitted with a shrug. I noticed when we came to top of the flight how the one crew member showed something to the interviewer on his tablet.

"A new question from a fan asks if you are currently sing-"

"Hell yeah, baby." I didn't even need to hear the full question.

"Are you interested in getting involved in a relationship in the near future?"

"Right now, I'm interested in taking my time to meet and know the right girl." I answered without really answering while I opened my bedroom door. The interviewer gave me a deadpan look in return, almost looking like he wanted to roll his eyes.

"What are your thoughts on marriage?" He continued.

"If it's with the right one." I grinned once the camera was back on me. Although I clearly wasn't talking about myself. Because fuck _all_ of that. I still didn't care what nobody said, I was _never_ getting married. There was no need for that. When I had so many options too? Please. I had _all_ the bitches now. I'm talkin' Brenda, LaTisha, Linda, Felicia, _all_ of 'em. Every woman wanted some Reezy and I am available for it.

My female followers ain't called Reezy Riders for no reason.

I allowed the crew to take video shots of my personal haven, my Scarface-themed bedroom. The interior decorator I hired had done her thing, it was easily my favorite room in the house. Damn it was fire. I mused over this while I slid open the door to my large balcony, overlooking my big-ass pool. I leaned along the railing for a few moments, about ready to turn back to see whether the crew was coming, when something caught my eye just in time.

The sight of a familiar black vehicle slowly cruising down the street, now putting its signal on to turn up the block. I eyed the wheels a little harder, noticing the way the light reflected from them as the car made its turn.

_Hmmm…_

I turned to the crew as they finally came out. "This the last room, y'all." I told them bluntly. "Ain't the view dope though?"

"Really." The interviewer stated blankly. "You have _no_ other rooms you want to show us?"

Well, I definitely couldn't show them my decked out mancave due to the full bar with visible alcohol. The bathrooms and guestrooms were unnecessary. The only thing I kinda did wanna show them was my Scarface-themed office. It was a close second in comparison to my bedroom, as it was designed exactly the way it was in the movie. _But_….

"Nah, we good." I brushed off, pulling myself away from the railing and heading back inside. "I gotta take y'all to Jazz's place so McHater ain't on my ass about it, no homo."

"Very well."

"By the way, who else y'all interviewing?" I asked casually, leading the way out of my room.

"Aside from you and your brother, Jazmine Dubois will most likely be the last one." The interviewer explained. "We wanted to interview her parents again but they are out of town, Otis Jenkins is now back on tour, and apparently Uncle Ruckus No Relation has relocated to Washington D.C. following the presidency."

"His bitch-ass." I scoffed with the roll of my eyes.

"We had tried to arrange with a few others, but both Ed Wuncler Sr. and his grandson had conflicting schedules, and Cindy McPhearson had been unable to be reached."

"Oh okay." I said lightly in response, already down the stairs and waiting for them to hurry up. After they all were finally down, I opened the front door and ushered them out.

"Aye, I'm not gonna drive to her house, but I am gonna back my car up to the end of my drive. So hop in." I told them, hitting the button for my Lamborghini doors to lift while I followed behind them.

"Why is that?" The interviewer gave me a questioning look.

"Y'all saw my driveway is long as hell." I told him. _And y'all __**slow**__ as hell_. I added in thought. "I'm just gonna park it at the top, c'mon." I said, moving around him to slide in my front seat. He continued to give me that look, but got in the passenger side anyway.

As _soon_ as the doors closed, I was in reverse, practically flooring it backwards as I checked my rearview mirror. The crew members looked nervous again as they braced themselves and held onto the assist handles all dramatically. Within seconds we were at the entrance of my driveway and I put it in park, hopping out once the doors lifted.

"Come on, y'all." I said, taking a few steps onto the sidewalk to look both ways down the street. When I glanced to the left, I saw it again. The vehicle was now parked along the opposite side of the road at the very end of the block, the way we would be heading anyway.

"You're certainly in a hurry." The interviewer commented, he and his crew now walking up behind me. I didn't look at him while I pressed the button to lower my doors and lock the car before I started leading the way.

"I ain't in no hurry, I'm just makin' sure y'all gonna have enough time. I know J's gonna go up to the event downtown to catch up with Huey." I said with a shrug, my mind now on other things as we headed down the street.

"At your grandfather's house, you referred to Jazmine as your brother's girlfriend." The interviewer brought up, and I noticed the one crew member had the camera out again. "Was that factual?"

I smirked at the camera. "Y'know, that's a _great_ question for Jazz. Lemme know if she's honest with y'all or if she just repeats the same tired answers she tells everybody."

The interviewer and crew looked between each other while we walked, and out of my peripheral I found a golden opportunity by chance. Before another question could be posed, I pointed to the left as we came to the intersection.

"Yo, that's Thugnificent's right-hand man over there, he'd be able to answer a few questions for y'all. Aye Leonard!" I called out loudly, watching the way he looked over in our direction. The moment the camera turned to the left and away from me, I _bounced_, silently dipping off to the right while the others were distracted the other way.

I skidded around to the opposite side of the large vehicle out of sight, almost surprised to already see some henchman-lookin' dude in black standing at the door of the Escalade. But surprisingly, it wasn't one of the guys I recognized. I glanced down briefly at the tire wheels to make sure I had the right car, and instantly knew I was right. The way the light reflected off the diamond rims, made custom with a small glittering of sapphire blue gems was unmistakable.

This was definitely her car alright.

I approached the brick of a man standing near the back door. He'd been eyeing me heavy ever since I came around the corner like that.

"Sup?" I supplied him a light head nod. "She inside?"

"Do you have an appointment?" He said in return, still giving me a dirty look.

"Don't need one." I dismissed easily. "Tell her it's Reezy."

"Unless you have an appointment, I'd suggest you move along." He countered, actually putting some bass in his voice at me.

All I could do was smirk. "Oh nigga, you _must_ be new." I snorted, sliding my phone out of my pocket while I started to compose a text. "How bout you page Tony or Roscoe so they can educate you on who the fuck I am. Or better yet, tap the window and have C-Murph open up for me herself."

"_Miss_ McPhearson is to be addressed as such and will _not_ be interrupted." Homeboy glared even more as he puffed up. "So _you_ need to…." He paused as he suddenly held the earpiece that was in his ear and looked away from me. I glanced up from my phone with a patient expression, giving him my attention to continue.

After a pause, he cleared his throat. "Upon further conclusion, she does appear to be available at the moment."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." I gave him a sarcastic grin, shooing him to the side with my hand. "Be sure to turn off your headset by the way."

"The headset _stays_ on." He tried to bite back, but I saw him subtly try to hold his earpiece again. "…Yes ma'am." He murmured into his speaker.

I grinned as I tugged on the handle and pulled opened the door. My grin widened even more at the sight of her, looking like _that_ while she was leaned back in her seat counting money. A favorite pastime that we both shared and enjoyed.

Well, not the _only_ favorite pastime.

"Must you harass my staff?" Her silky voice spoke as I ducked inside and closed the door shut behind me. I waited until she actually made eye contact with me before answering her. I smirked once those blue eyes met mine, making me feel a type of way every time.

"I wouldn't have to," I began, still staring at her intently. "If you informed your staff that you _always_ open up for me, don'tchu?"

* * *

Part 3 of the interview coming soon... :)

**Of course, another shoutout to** **_marcusthevisual_**, who's awesome artwork led to this inspiration from his vision of the characters.

**And another special shoutout to my girl,** **LovinHueyFreeman**, for all of her brilliant support and suggestions regarding this chapter and story as a whole. She is a beast. And currently has a dope story titled **_Back In The Day_**. If you haven't already read (and reviewed) you should. Straight fire. And from what I hear, a new chapter should be dropping soon, yeah? And yes, I am putting you on blast ;)

Readers from my other stories (which I _will_ be getting back to soon, I promise) already know that Riley is my boy. I love writing for him and enjoyed doing this chapter so much once I got into the flow. Reezy be on his Vogue ish with the _73 Questions_ bit, which if you've never seen those videos, they're pretty entertaining.

More to come soon with the next special guest! Let me know what you think of the series so far, I'd love your feedback! And thanks again so much for reading and supporting!

Til next time!

~Schweetie


	3. Part 3

Surprise! Lowkey kinda-sorta forget that I didn't finish this, but we back! With more to come! :)

**Thank you so much to everyone has read and to those who have favorited/followed/reviewed! Your support means so much!**

LovinHueyFreeman: You will always get the shoutout love. And um, excuse me, WHERE is that one-shot again? HMMMMM? I ain't forgot. Haha you know I love my boy. And I figured you'd get a kick out of the Huey/Jazmine crumbs. Riley is a trip and he would totally be instafamous irl. And yaaa the bodyguard needs to recognize. I hope you enjoy this chapter my dear! Thanks so much for all your help and advice with it! :D

Your Hitta: HAHA oh you already know, the interviewer can't stand him with a passion. And right? Easily instafamous in today's world. So extra with everything hahah! I'm glad you like my portrayal of him ^_^ And LOL yeahhh everybody will catch Huey's hands if they keep pushing him about Jazmine. We'll have to see what happens with that. Thank you SO MUCH for your kind words, it really warms my heart each time I read them. I appreciate your feedback and support so much!

hjr: Thank you so much for both reviews! I'm really glad you like the story! Huey and Riley are still the same Huey and Riley as usual lol! And HAHA now that'd be interesting to see if Riley could take Butch Magnus yet lolol! :)

Chel29: Thank you so much, I'm so glad you like! More to come from the other stories soon too!

CukooCoa: LMAO our boy be PREACHING! And Riley could totes be instafamous for real. That boy funnyyyyy XD

QuestionyTheQuestionMark: YASSSSSS! :D And hahahah your reviews always crack me up! I'm sooo excited for the reboot this year (hopefully) too, though I'm so curious how it's going to go with the unfortunate loss of John Witherspoon RIP. And Marcusthevisual is amazingggg! I love viewing his weekly art as well, he's so talented! :D

Disclaimer: I **do not** own any part of Aaron McGruder's _The Boondocks_ or any of his characters.

* * *

Within the first two minutes spent listening to the simple man in front of me, I felt my eyes slowly roll to the back of my head as I closed them. When I opened them again, I glanced past the man at the road beside us. I had the urge to step blindly into the street in hopes that a truck, van, or semi would be rapidly approaching. But to my regret, there wasn't even a car in sight along the quiet road at the moment. Unfortunately.

"And when we were in the second grade, he was always stealing my chicken nuggets." Leonard driveled on in his soft-spoken tone. "Which made me sad cuz like, he _knew_ how much I loved chicken nuggets. I still _love_ chicken nuggets. But back then he was all, 'you don't even need all these nuggets, who do you think you are, gimme these nuggets 'fore I stomp you in the nuts,' and I was like, _whoa_. Cuz who wants to get stomped in the nuts? I was only like seven back then, my nuts hadn't even dropped yet forreal. But Otis man, he was on another level—"

"Fan_tastic_, Leonard." I cut him off before I could truly follow my impulses. "We can certainly follow this up with you later."

"Really?" He asked in surprise.

"Of course." I lied to his face. "We just have to head on with Riley to continue to…" I turned around in confusion, realizing that Riley was no longer beside me. "Where did he go?" I asked the crew, who shrugged in uncertainty as well while they glanced around.

"Did you see where he went?" I turned back to Leonard.

"Ohhh yeah, you know what I think I did." He nodded slowly, gesturing up the street behind us. "I think when y'all came over he ran off for some reason behind that big Escalade. I was confused cuz like, he called my name, but then he ran away. And I never understand why people do that to me, but I guess—"

"Thank you Leonard, we'll be in touch." I said quickly, turning on my heel to proceed back up the sidewalk. The crew followed suit and our cameraman lifted his device as we crossed the intersection. After we turned the corner around the front of the _massive_ luxury vehicle, I was surprised to see a large man in a black suit standing next to the back-passenger doors. As soon as he spotted us, he shot us a glare while he waved a hand towards us dismissively.

"No cameras."

"We're in the middle of conducting interviews today, sir." I explained calmly.

"She is unavailable for interviews."

I furrowed my brow a bit in confusion until I realized. This man's brusquely voice was familiar. "I believe we may have spoken on the phone a few days ago." I suggested, even though I felt very sure based upon rumors I've heard. By the looks of the car, the obvious security, not to mention I was almost positive I'd just heard a very familiar snicker coming from inside… this had to be it.

"Is this Cindy McPhearson's vehicle?"

The man continued to glare stoically. "As I said before, Miss McPhearson is unavailable for comment."

* * *

_Damn she fine though._

She always did hate it when people stared, which was probably why she was ignoring a nigga right now. Not that I care. It's been a _minute_ since I'd seen her. And she was looking all types of good.

"So whose money you countin'?" I asked for the hell of it, admiring the way she was flying through her stack.

She arched an eyebrow without even looking at me. "It's questions like that that get people shot."

"You ain't shot me yet." I grinned while crossing my arms behind my head.

"There's still time."

"We got time for a lot right now, don't we...?" I trailed off, not really hearing her reply as my eyes continued to roam at her sitting across from me. Fuck I'd missed the look of her. She _still_ had the body of a model and it only got sexier over time.

_Especially with those tattoos_. I felt myself subconsciously wet my lips at the thought. If there was one thing I was a sucker for, it was tattoos on women. Particularly women like her. It was as if she knew I'd see her today, shit. All the exposed skin she had on display? The halter-looking crop top she was wearing looked more like a bra on her, especially with that V-neck and how the gold chains she wore brought even more attention to her chest. The teal shade of her top looked fine against her skin and matched the color of the capris pants she was wearing, with some damn high heel sandals.

And that hair. I smirked at the business look, almost perfect aside from the two cowlick bangs that still found a way to betray her even into adulthood. From what I could tell, it looked like her hair did grow out more over the past couple of months since she'd gotten it cut again. The last time I was able to _really_ see her let her hair down, it had barely brushed her shoulders… that was at night though. For the day, she wore it in her usual style: coiffed and bold in the front with the rest of her hair pinned back in a tight bun.

"Please tell me that's not your entourage outside my car." She spoke suddenly, sparing a glance out her window as she finished banding her bills.

I turned to the window and let out a snicker at how the bodyguard was basically shooing ole what's-his-name. "Nah girl, that ain't my normal crew. But it is the people we got interviewin' us for the documentary."

"Oh my, you're being interviewed today? How could I have forgotten?" She deadpanned. "You only mentioned it on every one of your platforms."

"Knew you followed me." I replied with an easy smile.

"_You_ should know I don't use social media. People just talk."

"Speakin' of, why ain't you wanna talk?" I nodded back towards the window at the crew retreating down the sidewalk. "I heard they wanted you on board."

She rolled her eyes dramatically, letting out the smallest of chuckles as she leaned back in her seat and crossed her legs. "Because _that_ makes sense. What could _I_ possibly bring to the table? What would I even _talk_ about? Especially next to Mr. Overnight Insta-Sensation?"

I laughed at her sarcasm, unbothered by it as I looked her over again. There was a tiny grin hinting at her lips, the essence of cool and collected as she looked back at me. One leg was crossed widely over the other with the side of her heel atop her knee, she dangled the wad of cash in her hand suggestively between her open legs, all while staring at me with those eyes that were way too bedroom for her own good.

"First of all, just bring your damn self to the table. That's all you need." I told her lowly, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. "And second, I _know_ ole boy better come with somethin' flyer than that for my title. Insta-Sensation? Really?" I scoffed playfully, making her fully crack the grin she'd been trying to hide. "Your title would probably be local kingpin, right?"

She let out a scoff of her own, pursing her lips a bit in return. "QUEENpin. Get it right."

* * *

_**Cindy McPhearson, 21-year old local queenpin (alleged).**_

* * *

_This bitch better have my money._

I reached for my cigar as I simultaneously lifted my phone, composing a quick text to my next victim.

_**Meet at my car in 20 minutes. We'll be outside.**_

My eyes fell closed on their own as I took a deep drag of my vice, focusing on the way my chest slowly expanded with my breath. Why can't people just be accountable for themselves? There is nothing more disappointing than going out of my way to hunt someone down. Not only is it completely disrespectful, but it ruins the entire day. Which means I now have to return the favor.

_Last fuck-up of the day. Then home to solitude. _I thought as a mantra, letting the smoke pass my lips as I exhaled. As soon as I opened my eyes, I met his again, _still_ continuing to stare at me like always.

"I've got an appointment soon." I told him plainly.

"You seem tense about it." He replied smoothly in return.

"It's business as usual." I countered, not taking my eyes off him while I rested my cigar in the ashtray. "So, if you don't mind—"

"Aw come on, C." Riley spoke again, grinning in response to my glare. "Take the day off and play hooky with me."

I blinked at him. "First of all, don't interrupt me."

"Noted." He smirked, as if he wasn't already aware of the pet peeve.

"Second, that is not how I operate. And you know that."

"If anyone knows about your modes of operation…" He trailed off suggestively while his gaze lingered again below eye level.

"Then why ask?" I responded dryly, unfazed.

"I just wanna know what you'd say in an interview forreal."

"Literally nothing. Hence why I declined the invitation."

"The people wanna know though!"

"_What_ people? Nobody knows a thing about me and I prefer to keep it that way."

"I know you." He said, meeting my eyes again. "Which is why I'd be perfect."

"For _what_?" I arched an eyebrow at him, noticing the way the mischievous glint in his eye practically came to life.

"A lot of things, for one." He smirked. "But nah, I'd be the perfect interviewer for you."

"Sure you would."

"I know I would." He shot back confidently. "Test me."

"Meaning?"

"Speed interview. Right now."

"Did you miss the part where I said I have an appointment?"

"Did you miss the part where I said speed?" He countered in an innocent voice, snickering in response to the look I gave him.

"Riley…"

"C-Murph..." He matched my tone, still grinning. "Come on, I ain't seen you awhile, shit. Forgive me for missin' the sound of your voice."

"Oh, what a line." I scoffed.

"You know you missed me too."

"Don't put words in my mouth."

"A good interviewer would never."

"_Boy_." I scolded him, resisting the urge to grin at his contagious laughter.

"Humor me, girl." He said easily, looking at me with that stupid grin. I slowly rolled my eyes in return with the shake of my head. This was why my visits to this side of town were always meant to be short. Not that it mattered. It was like he always just knew when I was around.

And it was _always_ something with him.

"You've got five minutes." I told him seriously, ignoring the look of happiness on his face. "So make it qui—"

"Tell me about your many illegal businesses."

"What!"

"Welcome to _The Real_ interview with Reezy, baby." He smirked. "We're only askin' the questions people wanna know."

"Well if you want this interview to continue, _I_ know you better address me by my name." I corrected him quickly. He knew I didn't play that pet name shit.

"My bad, queen. Can I call you queen? Or would you rather Miss Queenpin?"

"I'd rather you speed this up."

"I already asked you the first question!"

"We'd be here all day."

"Fine. Then how many businesses you got now?"

"Forty-four."

"Damn, congrats on the new additions."

"Thanks." The last time he had asked, the count had been about half that number. Five of my most recent businesses had been acquired from an out of town outlet plaza that had one primary owner, an owner who conveniently oversaw all of the stores in the local exchange. It only took a little persuading for the owner to agree to the partnership.

"Which one is your favorite?"

"Well… the Highball Casino and House of Cheeks are two of my most lucrative for obvious reasons." I shrugged. "But _all_ of my beauty salons are exceeding my initial expectations."

"White bitches gotta keep up with appearances. 'Specially old rich bitches." Riley shook his head. "You definitely in the right town to make a killin'. Unrelated, you ever kill a man?"

"Excuse me?" I gave him a look.

"Or a bitch?" He shrugged.

"Are you a mole?" I questioned, half-serious.

"Search me." He smirked, shifting his legs wider as he leaned back in his seat. "The people just wanna know whether that cute lil beauty mark is legit or if you paint it on every day."

"Don't patronize me. Everything _about_ me is legit."

"I ain't doubtin'." He seemed amused as he focused on my face, particularly the minuscule black teardrop beneath the corner of my left eye. "The people just wanna know."

"What you see is what you get." I simplified, glancing at my watch. "And you're running out of time."

"People you've been most influenced by?" He asked without missing a beat.

It was an easy question. "Al Capone. El Chapo. And Beanie Sigel."

"Girl, how the fuck did Beans even make the top three?"

"Watch your damn mouth." I rebuked the disrespect at once as he continued to laugh. "Your ass just lost a minute for that."

"Whatever." He grinned, his snickers finally settled. "Aiight, here's one. You got any regrets?"

"Regret what exactly?" I asked.

"Any of it." He shrugged. "Anything you've done or haven't done since you've been in… getting involved in the first place…?" He trailed off. But it wasn't something I had to think about.

"Why would I regret something I was born to do?" I stated truthfully.

It really wasn't something I had ever considered. Everything had happened so organically, it just seemed meant to go that way. I'd been selling since the time I was fifteen. By my senior year, I'd become fully integrated and was easily at the top of the chain in _all_ of the surrounding school districts. Had I not gotten involved so young, there would have been nothing to fall back on when I was expelled just a few months before graduation. They'd got me on a mix of cheating and assault allegations in an effort to win our basketball tournaments. Which had ironically led to my biggest personal loss at that time with the end of my education, the shame of my family, and no drive left towards basketball. It only took about one dark week for me to scrounge the passion I'd had for ball and put it into my hustle.

And it worked. Three and half years later and I was at the top of all of the surrounding counties, fuck a district. The best part is that I'm still just getting started.

Riley nodded at my answer. "I respect it."

"Did _you_?" I asked him.

He furrowed his brow in confusion. "Did I what?"

"Have any regrets when _you_ were involved?" I explained, not really knowing where the question was coming from aside from curiosity.

"I ain't the one bein' interviewed."

"So?" I challenged.

He grinned with the shake of his head. "Nah. I ain't got regrets. Things were decent when I was in. I also had a pretty good boss."

"You're damn right you did." I smirked.

"Yeah, she was sexy as fuck too."

"Alright, boy." I couldn't hold back the chuckle that slipped out.

"What, I'm just sayin'." He grinned even wider. "She was easy on the eyes, that's all."

"Mmmhm." I brushed him off, trying to put away my own grin. Admittedly, things had been smooth when Riley and I worked together back then. We had been on the same page about almost everything, which wasn't too surprising due to our similar mindset for business. It had also been a relief to have someone I could 100% trust, even for a little while. Almost a year after Riley went viral, he wanted out of the hustle. He actually wanted to go legit, which had _floored_ me initially and led to one of our biggest fights. Even I knew I was being selfish then, but didn't care. He was supposed to be my #1, and it felt like a betrayal. He and I both knew that the _only_ reason he got the opportunity to walk away without becoming a casualty was because of our history. A history that was too deep with _way_ too much baggage to ever fully unpack.

But that's a story for another day.

"It's been over five minutes by now, Reez." I told him, nearly missing the way his eyes lit up at that.

"I ain't done though." He protested.

"You're going to have to be, I've got things to do."

"The people got one more question."

"I'm sure." I snorted. "What?" I indulged him anyway.

He smirked. "You datin' anybody yet?"

I felt the corners of my lips turn up slightly at that. "I don't _date_. I _fuck_." I enunciated, watching the pools of his eyes practically dilate in response. "Does that clear up things for the people?" I asked innocently.

"Follow up question." He spoke again, his voice noticeably huskier. "When we gonna kick it?"

I clucked my tongue, arching an eyebrow at him. "When I summon you."

I watched his own tongue unconsciously sweep over his bottom lip as he nodded slowly. "I look forward to it."

I smirked. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, Riley."

The intense look didn't leave his eyes as he rose from his seat, minding his head as he kept himself ducked a bit. I should've seen it coming, but didn't have time to prepare before he was suddenly in my personal space, giving me a low hug with his hands on my waist and his face at my neck.

"Text me." His deep voice practically vibrated against my throat before he purposely brushed his lips into a chaste kiss along my neck. In the next moment he was pulling back, having the nerve to grin down at me in response to my glare.

"I think you may have forgotten who's the actual boss here." I eyed him pointedly. He knew better.

"Shouldn't it be dependent on the location though?" He played dumb. "I mean in this car, it's all you, ma. But in the bedroom, well…" He let the sentence linger in the air for a moment while he smirked. "I'll give you a turn whenever you want."

"Bye, Riley." My eyeroll was far from subtle as I dismissed him, turning my full attention to my cellphone as I picked it up. It took a few moments for him to get the hint and finally turn toward the doors. Once he finally exited and closed the doors behind him, I placed my phone down again and lifted my cigar instead.

There was a time when I used to be affected by him easily. Shamefully so even. The way he could seamlessly flatter and cause me to blush was almost embarrassing looking back. His natural charm and way with words was just… Riley. He'd always been that way and probably always would be.

But I grew up. And I knew him. As a friend and probably even more than that if I was being honest.

But feelings weren't my strong suit anymore. And in my current world, feelings were completely irrational. Not to mention dangerous. Them shits got you hurt. Which was why I had to create the distance that wasn't there before. It was also why it was only ever _once_ in a blue moon that I would allow myself to really spend time with him. And allow him to make me feel how I used to in the past… like an actual woman. And be pleasured as such, the way a man should do by a woman….

I exhaled a large cloud of smoke, still feeling antsy as my eyes glanced down at my phone again. Picking it up, I glanced down at the last message from Riley when he texted once he was outside my car. On most occasions, I cleared my texts immediately once I was done with them… but….

"Next stop, please." I spoke into my earpiece, watching out the window as my driver quickly moved to the front door and slid inside the vehicle. I put my phone face-down on the seat again, mindfully ignoring the urge to delete Riley's message thread.

_I'll just use that as a reminder to text him later tonight._

* * *

I will try to have Part 4 available in the very near future!

As always: **shoutout to _marcusthevisual_**, who's phenomenal artwork lead to the inspiration for this story and the portrayal of our favorite characters!

Also as always, shoutout to my girl **LovinHueyFreeman** who is my Fanfic rock of support/encouragement! She will be posting her new chapter of **_Back In The Day_** ASAP so keep an eye out and _READ AND REVIEW IT! _:D

ALSO ALSO, BIIIIGG shoutout to one of the OGs, **Paige1292** back on the archives with a brand new story called **_Waves_ **and you know it's already dope AF! Be sure to read and review toooo! Missed you girl! #SQUAD

There will be more to come soooooon, with possibly one or two chapters of this story! I appreciate everyone who's read and supported and will be back soon with an update! Please take care and stay safe out there! And remember: _We're alllll in thiiissss togetheerrrr_ ^_^


	4. Part 4

The last interview has arrived. And the "end" of this story is near.

Thank you so much for all the love and support for this story! Big thanks to **_ marcusthevisual_ **for the literal inspiration. And thank you to the following for reviewing:

LovinHueyFreeman: Thanks so much love, you already know I couldn't do this without you. And stop it, lies, mm-mm. You absolutely will finish that one-shot you hear me? Haha Leonard is my guy, that was honestly one of my favorite short dialogues to write, just because lmao. And you already know Cindy is that chick. The ultimate bawse. And LMAO you caught that I upped the number again XD thank you for the encouragement. And thank you sooooo much again with all your help with this. Seriously.

Paige1292: Mah girllll, you already know! #SquadGoals Thank you so much for your review, I'm so glad you liked it! It was been so fun to write! Granddad will never change, writing him always makes me happy. Phew Huey is a trip to write for, you don't even know how long it took. Honestly all thanks to LovinHueyFreeman, I couldn't have gotten him right without her. Haha Herzog is too wild, I tried to capture his craziness to the best of my ability. And you already know Riley's my bae. And Cindy is queen all day, I need her to rub some of that energy to me lmao! Thanks again so much!

CukooCoa: Hahahah WE STAN A QUEEN! XD I'm so glad you liked the version of her, thanks so much!

Your Hitta: Lmaoooo Leonard is my BOIII, I honestly loved writing that part so much XD And Herzog be wildin' for real for NO reason at all haha. Cindy hit him with that frigid coldness tho! Writing the two of them together is my favorite. I hope you enjoy this chapter and thanks again!

Bulmas Ego: Hahahah awww thank you so much, I'm so happy you enjoyed! :D Riley is bae and also Cindy is bae and them together is everything to me lol. Huey is always my hardest to write for, I definitely tried my best to capture his personality! Thanks again so much and enjoy the chapter!

Chel29: Lmaooo noted my dear. FFBS is next, I know that's the one you been waitin' on ;) The next chapter for that one has started production ^_^ thanks so much!

Let's get it.

Disclaimer: I **do not** own any part of Aaron McGruder's _The Boondocks_ or any of his characters.

* * *

"Is this the house?"

"No, it should be the next one down." I told the crewmember as we continued to walk. The only indicator was the incorrect address number on the mailbox. All of the houses on this street, in this forsaken _neighborhood_, looked completely identical.

"How much material do you think we'll get here?" The other crewmember asked. "You said her parents weren't even in town, right? It's just the girl we're interviewing?"

"That's correct. Their daughter." I sighed. When I spoke to Tom initially to request the interview, he'd mentioned that he and his wife would be on vacation to celebrate their anniversary. A part of me wondered if he was lying to protect their sham of a marriage. His wife Sarah clearly wasn't that into him. It was _painfully_ obvious that she'd settled. By this point, they could be separated or divorced already. "We'll get as much as we can."

"Mostly info about her parents?"

"And _anything_ she can give us about Huey Freeman." I told him seriously, feeling a sudden chill.

"Do we know anything in particular about her though?" The other crewmember spoke quietly as they neared the house. "The daughter I mean."

"Aside from her relationship with Freeman, not much. She was previously described to be like his shadow when they were younger, but _significantly_ more naïve without any true sense of identity." I said, barely remembering even _seeing_ the child during the first set of interviews. All I could vaguely picture was a scrawny girl with a wild but bright head of curly hair. The thought of sitting through an interview with the shell of someone with no personality, or _worse_, that of her _father's_….

My bottle of hand sanitizer was starting to sound more and more appetizing… but it wouldn't be enough to finish the job, unfortunately. So I kept it pocketed.

"We shouldn't be here too long." I stated as I knocked on the door. "Just a few questions and then we should have enough. I don't anticipate she'll have insight on too much—" I stopped talking when the door suddenly opened as a kind voice spoke.

"Welcome!" She greeted, surely not missing our reactions as we all stared at her in surprise.

With the prior knowledge I had, I was still picturing a child to answer the door, not the mature woman who stood before me.

She was certainly the furthest thing I was expecting from the day so far.

* * *

_**Jazmine Dubois, 22-year old daughter of Tom & Sarah Dubois… and radical former sheep**_

* * *

"Tea?" I asked the group as I re-entered the living room. "I can make more if anyone would like a cup."

"No thank you." The director declined as his staff shook their heads at my offer. "We're about set up if you're ready."

"I am." I replied as I crossed the room towards the sofas. I felt their eyes linger on me while I past, but I didn't falter or care much as I finally took my seat. I wouldn't be made to feel uncomfortable in my childhood home.

Especially when I felt more than comfortable.

I sipped my own tea as Mr. Herzog moved to sit in the sofa chair across from me. Okay, if I'm being honest, the man did make me feel only _slightly_ uncomfortable. But only for his mental health. He just looked so… _miserable_. Never in my life had I seen someone exude such an essence, not even Huey.

_Maybe I can somehow slip my therapist's card to him before he leaves. _I thought briefly, trying to quickly remember where I had put that information.

"So then," Mr. Herzog spoke, eyeing me steadily. "…_You're_ Tom Dubois's daughter?"

"And Sarah's." I added with a grin. "But yes, their one and only."

"Are they still together?"

"What?" I furrowed my brow in confusion.

"Your parents. Are they still married or did they end up divorcing?"

"They're definitely still married. Why wouldn't they be?" I asked seriously. Because what in the world had my parents done or said during the first interview that would have him ask that?

Mr. Herzog gave a slow blink at that before continuing. "No reason. However I must admit, we came with questions mainly regarding your parents. But it seems since we've arrived, the viewers want to know more about you."

"The viewers?" I glanced from him to the camera on me. "Is this live?"

"It's not live, but we have been posting a few details and pictures to social media. Your picture currently has the second most reactions behind Riley's."

"I'm sure." I let out a chuckle, subtly glancing down at my outfit as I lifted my mug to lips.

"You are _worldly_ different from the information we've heard about you."

"I can guarantee whatever information you have is outdated." I told him factually. "I haven't lived in Woodcrest for awhile."

"Where do you currently reside?"

"Close to the University of Maryland."

"With Huey Freeman?"

_Where did _that_ come from?_ I thought briefly before answering. "Um, no? He has a house near the city more than a half hour away. I live in an apartment complex near campus where I attend."

"What is your field of study?"

"Well, I already have my Bachelor's in History. I'm currently working on earning my Master's in African-American Studies with a focus in Women's Studies."

"I see." He responded simply, as if he couldn't _clearly_ tell. "Did you have any particular influence in your education choices?"

"My own experiences." I replied honestly.

"Would you be open to sharing them with the audience?"

"It's a bit of a long story." I prefaced, feeling my heart twinge a bit at the memory as usual. "But sure."

* * *

_Initially, __**that day**__ turned to be the worst day of my entire life. But in actuality, it was really the best day, because I had finally woken up._

_I had started the first day of my freshman year with a positive mindset as always. It was finally time to begin my journey in Criminal Justice, and eventually become a lawyer just like my father. And I wanted to be the best, which meant looking and feeling my best. So I decided to do something I hadn't tried since childhood: straightening my hair. For just once, I needed to at least _feel_ like I fit in._

_And it worked. I had barely gotten a solid four hours of sleep from being up so early to work on my hair, but I had done it. It was _finally_ free from its curly frizz and styled to perfection in soft waves down my back. I'd gotten more glances from boys than I ever had noticed before and it was thrilling._

_Well, all but one boy in particular who _glared_ at my hair instead, but I'd ignored it. Tried to anyway._

_His silent disapproval completely left my thoughts when I met _him_, that same first day._

_Hollis Ashland._

_I'd fallen head-over-heels right away, from the moment we locked eyes in class. When he approached me afterwards, it had taken all but a few minutes for me to give him my number. He was gorgeous and charming and had made no bones about letting me know he was interested. In _me_. It felt too good to be true coming from someone like him. Someone who was not shy about letting me know just how beautiful he thought I was._

_I didn't go a day without straightening my hair the next few weeks. I wanted him to always look at me like that. It didn't take long for him to ask me out and for our first date, followed shortly after by the second one. By the evening of our third scheduled date, I was completely smitten. I was sure he was going to ask to make it official, he'd already asked if I was seeing or talking to anybody else. I wanted him so bad. I wanted a _relationship_ so bad and wanted it to be with him. I couldn't help but gush about it._

_It hadn't gone unnoticed by Huey, who had finally had enough and had made his feelings known with his usual bluntness._

"_Hollis. Isn't. Shit."_

_I could only imagine the look I gave him. He had stopped by to visit at my dorm that day, not knowing I'd be getting ready for my date. It had been after I'd excitedly told him where we were going and what we'd be doing and how _sure_ I was that Hollis was going to be my first real boyfriend that he'd said those three cutting words._

"_How can you say that?" I demanded from him._

"_How can you not _see_ it?" He shot back. "He's a shallow prick who only wants one thing. And for the record, he 100% thinks that you're white."_

"_I AM half-white, Huey!" I had yelled at him. "What does it matter?"_

"_Trust me, it matters." He'd spoken lowly. "And one day you'll see just how much it does."_

_Our fight had only gotten worse until I practically kicked him out. He'd completely ruined my good mood and worse, cut into my prep time for my hair. I knew I had rushed through it and not applied the same time and attention I normally would've before rushing out the door once Hollis arrived._

_Despite the previous hour, our date had started as amazing as our others. He'd spoiled me at a fancy restaurant, showered me in nothing but compliments and attention the entire time, and had arranged a surprise trip to the astronomy observatory to stargaze. When we arrived, it seemed to be a full house of students on the open deck due to the meteor shower that was predicted to be visible that night. I had been so elated during those first several minutes with Hollis. But in hindsight, I know my excitement would've been significantly lessened had either of us known about the other prediction for that night._

_Rain._

_It was the perfect storm, literally. We had both happened to catch the fading glimmer of a passing meteor when I turned to him in awe. In the next moment, Hollis pulled me into a deep kiss that about took my breath away. That's when I first felt it. First one, followed by two, and then several falling upon my head. My first gut reaction was to open my eyes and pull away, but he held me with such possession. And he was kissing me with such a _passion_, not even caring who was watching. And, as stupid as it sounds, it felt like a movie. So I kept kissing him for all he was worth, somehow managing to forget about my hair for those few moments of bliss._

_Reality snapped me back into place much sooner than expected._

_The sudden rain had ended almost as quickly as it had started, a thick humidity taking its place instead. I had been too high on cloud 9 to even realize how the texture of my hair was reverting back. Or notice the way Hollis was now staring at me. My hair specifically. It was as if he was really seeing me for the first time._

"_What are you?" He said aloud, catching me off guard as I turned back to him._

"_Wh-what?"_

"_Are you… white?" He asked rigidly._

_I didn't know what to say or why he was doing this here. "I… I _am_ white. But I'm black too. I'm… both."_

_The look on his face said it all as he sneered at me. Physically wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He let out an explicit curse, attracting the attention of some of the surrounding students. Then… he said things I would never forget as I long as live. And never repeat. He caused _more_ than a scene, and completely belittled me in front of my peers, crushing my spirit and breaking my heart all at the same time._

_I had never run so fast. I didn't even know where I was running to. He had driven us there, but I would've rather run for miles than ever get in his proximity again. I didn't stop running until I was on the verge of vomiting, physically crumpling against an oak tree on the main campus lawn. I felt physically broken as I knelt there, right before calling the only person I could think of._

_Huey came with no questions asked, despite everything said from our prior fight. From the moment he heard my voice crack over the phone, he was already on the way. I had barely uttered out the location and it felt like he was there within minutes, keeping me on the phone with him the entire time. I fell apart again the moment I saw him, melting into his arms as he held me and allowed me to cry it out._

"_You were right." I'd admitted through my sobs. "You were right about everything."_

_He hadn't even gloated, just continued to hold me for as long as I needed. We were at that tree for over an hour, maybe even two. In that time, he had comforted me in ways I didn't think Huey Freeman was capable of doing. Then, as my tears were mostly settled, he suddenly glanced at his watch._

"_Do you want to come with me to a group meeting? It only started about a few minutes ago." He asked, turning to look at my full reaction. "It's with the Black Student Union."_

"_I don't want to come uninvited, Huey. Besides," I tried and failed to run a hand through my hair, all the way back to its full and natural state now. "I'm a _mess_."_

_As if he couldn't surprise me more, Huey rose to the challenge and placed his palm gently on my cheek, gliding his thumb smoothly below my right eye to wipe my stray tear._

"I_ am inviting you. And you're not a mess. You're _perfect_, Jazmine."_

* * *

"That night had really been the wake-up call I needed." I spoke, staring into my mug as I willed away the tingling sensation in my eyes at the memory. "And that BSU meeting really was the turning point for me. I became a member that night after sharing my story and went to every meeting and event after. During my next semester, I took my first African-American Studies class as an elective and was inspired ever since. At the end of my freshman year, I had to break the news to my father that I would be switching majors." I chuckled with a fond eyeroll, thinking back to his dramatic and tearful reaction. "By the start of my sophomore year, I was officially enrolled in History to soak up everything I could."

"That is quite a story." Mr. Herzog said at the end, though his face never changed. "What ever became of the boy?"

I cleared my throat as I raised my mug up to my lips. "Um, not really sure. All I know is that he had some sort of accident and then transferred to a college closer near his home."

"…Is that so?"

"…That's what I heard." I stared at him while taking a loud slurp of my tea.

"…Well then." He continued after a pause. "It appears as though you've truly embraced your culture since that time."

"I know that I have." I nodded. "I feel like I've finally embraced and accepted _myself_ since then. And I feel… happy. I _finally_ feel happy and content and _comfortable_ in my own skin. And honestly, there's no greater feeling." I said with a smile.

Truthfully, I hadn't expected to share as much of my story as I did. The only other person who knew the _full_ story was Huey. But the more I spoke, the more I wanted to share my experience. I felt empowered doing so. And I want to embrace who I am every day, even down to what I wear. I feel at one with myself when I represent my culture, like today. I was a little more dolled up than usual with the rally later, but I felt good as hell in my clothes. My crochet crop top had a rich red pattern with the golden silhouette of Africa in the middle. I paired it with light blue shorts and sheer black leggings underneath that were only slightly ripped, as to not take away from the colors I wore with pride. From my bracelets to my necklaces to my earrings, even my belly chain, I lived for the vibrant colors that represented my heritage so freely.

"Did you ever straighten your hair again?" Mr. Herzog asked.

"Absolutely not." I shook my head, allowing my wild curls to move with me. I had added a large red dahlia pin to it for the event today, but for the most part on most days, my hair was as unapologetically free as I was.

"May I ask, what do you plan to do with your degree?"

"If I'm being honest, I'm not entirely decided yet." I shrugged a shoulder. "No matter what I do, my main goal is to help women in some way. Particularly women of color. Whether that means teaching or counseling or even starting my own business to cater towards them, I want to do it. I want to make a difference."

"Are you currently dating?"

"I'm sorry?" I asked in surprise at the random question.

"Your fans want to know."

"_My_ fans?" I was so confused. "I mean, I'm not currently in an official relationship."

"What about your relationship with Huey Freeman?"

I cleared my throat lightly. "What about him?"

"That's what the viewers would like to know."

"Didn't you already talk to Huey?" I arched an eyebrow.

"We did." He nodded.

"What did _he_ say?"

"He denied comment."

I shrugged a shoulder while lifting my mug again. "He likes to keep his affairs private. As do I."

"Understandable. It was Riley who suggested we ask you."

"Of course he did." I rolled my eyes. "Where is he anyway?"

"We have reason to believe he went to visit Cindy McPhearson. She had declined our request to interview. Would you happen to have any insight on her—"

"Nope, don't know her!" I cut him off right away. I knew _of_ the girl in our grade during high school. The one who'd been expelled. And I'd certainly heard the rumors as much as anyone. But I was staying _all_ the way out of any conversation regarding _that_. I was not about to put a target on my back. No matter how tight her and Riley apparently were.

"Whaddup in this biiiitch?" We all turned to the loud voice of Riley, swinging the front door open as he waltzed inside.

"By all means Riley, come right on in." I told him dryly, putting my mug down on the coffee table as he sauntered over.

"Sup witcha fine ass, you lookin' hot." He smirked, leaning down as if he was about to kiss my cheek. I stopped him mid-air by lifting my hand to block him.

"Not on camera and not on your life." I scoffed, using my fingers to firmly move his lips and his head away from mine. "I don't know where your mouth has been."

"You don't wanna know." He winked.

"That's _gross_."

"Y'all still filmin'?" He changed the subject, his eyes lighting up as they turned to the camera. "Y'all need more from me?" He asked, practically nudging me out of the way as he squeezed to sit down right next to me.

"I think we have most of what we need." Mr. Herzog said, not really paying much attention to Riley while he glanced down at his notes. "My only regret is that we did not obtain _as_ much from Huey due to his meeting."

"Booooo, he sucks."

"Stop it." I elbowed Riley in annoyance. "I have an idea though. Why don't you come down to the rally too?"

Mr. Herzog raised a brow at me. "Really?"

"Of course. It's a free event, no tickets are required." I told him, glancing up at the clock on wall before rising from my seat. "Huey's speech will be starting in about a half hour or so. That would leave us enough time to get there and see most of it."

He seemed to consider while he turned to his crewmembers that nodded quietly. I glanced at Riley as I slipped on my solid tan kimono duster. "You coming too?"

"Shit girl, I'm drivin'!"

"Are there even enough seats in your car?"

"Psshhh, you can sit in my lap!"

* * *

_The Freeman Family. The enigma of Maryland. Maybe even the United States._

_They are strange, wild, and complex creatures that are far more than meet the eye initially._

_As I stood among the crowd next to Riley and Jazmine, I reflected upon this as we listened to Huey on stage. _

_He spoke about community, perseverance, diversifying, self-identity, the hope of humanity, and more._

_I considered Jazmine, a woman not related to the Freemans by blood, but woven into their lives just the same, significantly shaped from their relationship._

_I thought about Riley, a man whose behavior was heavily influenced based on his community. The majority of his actions stemmed directly from the opinions and wants of society._

_I briefly pondered Cindy, someone allegedly devoted to making a way out of no way, no matter the cost._

_I contemplated Robert, a senior who was inimitable in every sense. He knew and understood who he was, even when no one else did, and embraced it fully._

_I paused to observe Huey for a few moments. He spoke with the fervor of someone beyond his years as he addressed the audience. The crowd could hardly be contained as they cheered for him and his message. Jazmine was noticeably dabbing at her eyes while still beaming from ear to ear. Riley chanted along in loud support, recording the display with his phone in the air. Upon the conclusion of Huey's speech as he came down from the podium, Jazmine and Riley rushed through the crowd to meet him off near the side._

_The amount of pride they had went without saying based on the looks on their faces. Jazmine, not realizing she was still being filmed, engulfed Huey into a hug and brushed his cheek with a discreet kiss. Riley took the opportunity to snap a few photos of him and his brother, not before gesturing a few nearby fans to take photos with them. And surprisingly, regardless of the mild chaos, though he did not smile or react much, Huey Freeman did look seemingly content._

_And for a fleeting moment, he almost __**didn't**__ look like a domestic terrorist._

_I nodded to my crew, signaling the wrap up to head out. But right before I could completely turn my back to leave, he somehow met my gaze. And even from across the sea of people, that stone look sent a shiver directly down my spine._

_Well… the answer to that mystery was still to be determined._

* * *

Well... that's it, all she wrote, issa wrap kids!

...But.

There may or may not but definitely will possibly be one little last bonus chapter dropping in the near future... who's to say tho, we'll see... :)

Thanks again for supporting and reading this story again and remember to go check out **_ marcusthevisual_**'s artwork on social media!


	5. BONUS: Cindy's Rules

When you finish the SIDE chapter before the actual story…

Soooo surprise, I've had this one done for a minute now, but have been waiting to post until I finally finished the _main_ story.

For the final time: shout-out again to **Marcus Williams, AKA**_** marcusthevisual**_ on Instagram, the creative genius and inspiration for this story, based off his amazing illustrations/descriptions for our favorite characters in their 20's. **Go check him out!**

And enjoy this last bonus chapter…

Disclaimer: I **do not** own any part of Aaron McGruder's _The Boondocks_ or any of his characters.

* * *

_Said play with my pussy, but don't play with my emotions_

* * *

_**12:56 AM**_

The time displayed on the face of my phone as I checked for any last-minute notifications. It was still very much an early night. Had I not finished up my previous work so quickly, I would've opted to arrive later.

But here we are.

I slid my phone into my coat pocket as the car began drawing to a stop along the road.

"Would you like us to drop you off at the door, ma'am?" Roscoe asked, the way he asked every time he brought me here. I didn't have to look at the rearview mirror to know his eyes were on me. My gaze stayed on the window while I waited for Tony to climb down from the passenger seat and open my door.

"No." I told him plainly, still staring ahead. "Wait here." I instructed, just as my door was opened by my other hire.

"Yes, Miss McPhearson." Both men responded in unison, as if on command.

I smirked at that, carefully stepping a long leg out from the Escalade, followed by my other as I allowed Tony to take my hand to assist me. As soon as I stood tall again, I wordlessly passed by him to begin my descent down the long driveway.

To his place.

I was almost surprised that he hadn't put up a gate to the entrance of his home yet. He probably thought he was such hot shit now. With the big modern house he paid for, complete with a wraparound pool, multiple cars that were as fast and furious as his lifestyle, and all of the fame and recognition he'd always wanted… at 20 years of age, Riley Freeman was already living the dream.

How I had found myself to be a component of _said_ dream, well….

I rolled my eyes at the thought. Because _that_ was laughable. I wasn't nobody's damn dream. I was a fucking nightmare for these bitches.

Besides, if I was being honest with myself, I knew exactly how I became a component with him. As usual, it was my own doing. I initiated things. For the most part anyway. And he reciprocated _very_ willingly. Since that initial time, it was always that way. When I _felt_ like it. Which wasn't often.

It was only ever once in a blue moon that we met up. Usually about every other month or so. Sometimes it was a little more frequent, but almost never more than once a month. That was pretty much a given. Occasionally, there had even been times where we hadn't seen each other in several months.

_"Busy."_ I remembered quipping to him when we finally did see each other again. That had been the only reasoning I'd given, not that I needed to explain myself at all. To him or anyone ever. My time was valuable. And what I did during my time was and always would be on my own terms.

Just like this. These late-night meetings were _always_ on my terms. And very casual, beginning with a text. A simple text to let him know I'd be available to meet sometime that week. It was intentionally vague. If I texted him on a Monday stating my availability, that availability could very well mean Sunday. But it could also very well mean the next day. After I texted him, I awaited his response, which was always "_Aiight_."

He knew the deal. That response was a non-verbal agreement and understanding that he was to have his evening schedule cleared, and to be ready when it was time. More often than not, I would summon him to my place once I was officially available the night of. It was always a rare occasion that I would plan a visit to him.

Which is why I found myself walking the final few yards to his doorway that night, my black Louboutin pumps clicking with every step. My hands were pocketed in the deep pouches of my black leather trench coat that came to a stop about mid-calf. My blonde hair was free from the business style I usually wore it in ever since I'd gotten it cut. It had grown surprisingly faster than I expected, already falling a few inches past my shoulders in its natural wavy state. My painted lips upturned slightly, knowing he'd be happy to see it down. My lipstick, the only makeup I opted to wear, was such a dark plum it almost looked black.

_About as black as my heart… and my intentions. _I thought unapologetically to myself as I stepped forward and rang the doorbell. I glanced skyward at the full moon, briefly taking in the night as I waited for him to answer. It wasn't too long before I heard the sounds of the locks unlatching and I straightened my good posture even more to stand at my tallest, willing the sudden nerves to dissipate. I wasn't nervous by any means, just… impatient really… anxious….

_Excited?_

I tried to downplay that thought immediately as the door slowly started to open to reveal him. Riley stood several inches taller at 6'2", with a body that complemented his frame perfectly. He'd always been lean in his younger days, but age and dedication had definitely changed things. While he was still lean, there was now noticeable added muscle to him, especially in his abs and arms. Admittedly, they were the first place my eyes went to as soon as he stepped into view. I worked to bring my gaze up from his athletic torso, forcing my eyes to continue to move from the dozens of tattoos covering his jacked arms.

I gave a slow blink before deciding to focus on his face, trying to silence my thoughts. As usual, those fluttery nerves returned to my stomach just by the way he stared, leaning against the doorframe as he did so with a grin. I tried not to reciprocate as I stared back at him. His face was primarily clean-shaven, aside from the small goatee that he now wore on his chin. His textured short curls still caught me off guard; it was such a stark difference from the braids he had worn for the longest, though the change did make him look older. His eyes were the way they always were: roguish and captivating, with such a rich and unique brown color. It was easy to see how bitches could get lost in them.

Not that I was one of them.

I cleared my throat lightly, my mind back on track as I raised a delicate brow at him. Riley didn't miss a beat as he swung the door open wider with his arm, still remaining in his leaned position against the doorframe. I fixed my gaze in front of me, ignoring his blatant stare as I slowly brushed past him to step into the foyer. I kept my back towards him as I took a few more steps, waiting patiently until I heard him close the door behind me, followed by the sound of the locks.

Leisurely, I took my time while I untied the belt of my jacket, feeling his gaze on my turned back. Once that was loose and hung down at my hips, I started with my top button, slowly undoing it before heading down to the next. Once I had the first three undone, I shrugged a bit, allowing the coat to droop down from my bare shoulders. I paused for an extended moment, using my hand to sweep the hair off to one side of my neck before I continued unbuttoning, a slight smirk hinting at my lips as I did so, just picturing his reaction.

Once I had all of the buttons undone, I regained my poker face before sliding the coat from my naked and tattooed body. I moved the coat to hold in one hand before casually glancing over my shoulder to look back at him.

I shouldn't have, really. If I was trying to keep a straight face, making eye contact with him when we were together like this was a bad move. It was damn-near impossible not to falter just by the sexy look he gave me alone. His eyes seemed to rake up and down my body in want. The way he bit his lip while his eyes ravished me made it even more unbearable. Not to mention the way he was visibly erect in his loose basketball shorts.

I waited for his gaze to finally meet mine before I started to move again, tossing the jacket to carry casually over my shoulder as I walked. His footsteps followed behind me right away as I began my ascent up the marble stairs, my heels practically echoing in the silence of the hallway. Once I made it to the top, I continued down the dim hallway, heading straight for the master bedroom.

I pushed open his door easily, briefly scanning the spacious room. He had to have hired a decorator and a maid by now, there was no way he was keeping it this neat and put together on his own. It certainly had not looked like this the last time I visited. I almost wanted to call him out and clown him about it. I had about done so, my mouth partly open to form the words. But I closed it about as fast as I had opened it, quickly disregarding that thought. At a previous time, I would've teased him, as a friend. But things were different now. And we were far from "friends" in the traditional way.

Besides, tonight or any night shared between us was not about friendship… it was about business.

I tossed my jacket over the back of his desk chair as I continued past, slowing my strides as I came to the foot of his king-size bed. I turned back to Riley, who had now stopped just a few paces behind me after I did. His eyes were so full of longing as he continued to stare at my body, his hands behind his back now as if he was holding them there in place. Honestly, I was halfway shocked that he was actually going along, but on the other hand not too shocked since I had a good idea as to why.

This was the first time I had ever showed up to his place wearing nothing but heels and a coat. Unless he wanted this to be the first and _last_ time I ever gave him a surprise like this, he was damn sure going to listen for once.

The rules I had were simple enough, and he already knew them. The main one overall was that I was in control. Which was obvious. If at any point I decided to relinquish control to him during our time together, that was one thing. But I set the pace and tone for how things would go down. A few things in particular did not and would _not_ go down.

The first being that Riley was not to touch until I verbally gave him permission to do so. A wicked tease, I could admit. But I also could admit that I did enjoy seeing that lustful desire in his eyes. It was never entirely too long that I teased him anyway.

The second thing was that there were to be no pet names during our time together. I was not his baby. Or his boo. Or any of the dozens of nicknames he called any of the women who actually fell for that shit. I was not that to him. And he certainly was not that to me. Our given names were Cindy and Riley for a reason. We could address each other that same way in the bedroom. At the _very_ most, Cin and Reezy. Period.

And finally, the rule that pretty much surmounted all the others: absolutely _no_ kissing on the lips. There was no need for that in my opinion. That was too much, too personal, too… real. And putting something real upon something that so obviously was _not_ was a problem.

There were boundaries. We were not a couple, or whatever it was we had claimed to be when we were young. We were just…

I took a seat on the edge of the bed, keeping my eyes on Riley as he inched his way closer. I waited until he came directly in front of me before I slowly parted my knees, spreading my legs wide apart while keeping my ankles tucked behind one another in a lady-like fashion. I felt the heat rush down as Riley wetted his lips, slowly squatting himself low to get a better look at me while he continued to wait for the cue. By the hungry gleam in his eye, his patience was wearing thin, and he looked about ready to lose it.

Truthfully, I didn't think I'd be able to wait much longer myself either, so I gave it to him:

"Fuck me."

_This_.

* * *

_I __**really**__ should be stopping him… but…._

My thoughts trailed off again as my muscles continued to relax. I wanted to tell him to stop, honestly. But my lips struggled to even form the words, I was too focused on not allowing a moan to slip through instead.

"I know you like that." His voice said deeply from behind me. "You ain't gotta pretend."

I bit my lip as he purposely supplied another pleasurable stroke with his palms. I could just picture the smirk on his face. So I kept my eyes closed and opted for silence instead.

"Want me to stop?" He continued, his voice sounding so damn _smug_.

Slowly, I lifted my head to glance back and meet Riley's gaze. As expected, his grin was entirely too cocky, which was annoying despite how good it felt.

"You can do whatever you want." I told him coolly.

"Can I?" He replied just as smoothly, his eyes skimming down my body.

I rolled my eyes at him with a mild smirk of my own. "Whatever the fuck you want."

"Yeah?" His voice was gravelly in tone as he gripped my hip a little tighter, his nails digging a bit into the skin.

"Reezy," His name came out as a breathy sigh at the gratifying feeling.

"Yeah, keep talkin' to me like that."

"If you don't shut-_up_!" My pitch went up in surprise as Riley's face was suddenly at my neck, giving it a hard bite. "And boy, you better not mark me."

"Can't have Tony or Roscoe seein' that, huh?" He murmured into my ear, right before giving a suckling kiss to my jaw.

I pulled back a bit to give him a light glare. He knew better. His lips were also getting _too_ close to mine. "Watch it."

"Mhm." He hummed dismissively before planting a kiss on the top of my shoulder. "Lay down." He ordered, his hands back to massaging as he steadily eased me back down onto the pillow.

I really should've checked him for that, for even attempting to tell me what to do. But I didn't have the words again, now that he was back to doing his favorite thing… well, his _second_ favorite thing.

Kiss and rub all over my tattoos.

He'd been at it for the past half hour or so since we had gotten done with our latest session, which had effectively exhausted me completely. Especially after all our previous rounds. Riley had stamina, I could give him that much. And he was always eager to please.

For _hours_. A part of me wondered if he was this vigorous with any of his other playthings, but my brain shut that down immediately. First of all, I wasn't one of his playthings in any capacity. Second, my mind shouldn't even be going there at all. Because third, it didn't _matter_. He probably was. Especially if there were tattoos involved; it was so obvious that they were a turn-on for him.

_Especially mine_. The thought couldn't help but flit through my mind while his hands continued massaging my body. I felt the way he'd slyly trace along my designs, the current one being the partial sleeve on my hip and upper thigh. He had given each of the patterns the same care and attention: from my shoulder on one arm, to the forearm on the other, down to the intricate details around my ankle, and of course, the angel wings beneath my breasts.

My eyes opened when I felt Riley's lips continuing to brush and kiss along my shoulder while he laid partially along my back. The hand that wasn't massaging had somehow traveled up my arm and now found itself covering my own, slightly entwining our fingers.

Over another smaller tattoo that we both shared.

I shifted my body, beginning to roll slightly as I pulled my hand out from underneath his. "We holding hands now or what?" I questioned, turning back to him after he slid to lay beside me.

He shrugged a nonchalant shoulder as he situated himself to lay on his stomach. "Maybe." He replied easily, grabbing my hand again before I had a chance to react. "Still there." He confirmed after a quick glance.

"Shut up." I rolled my eyes, pulling my hand back again as I crossed my arms under myself.

"I mean, you've _been_ sayin' you're gonna get it removed, but it's still there sooo…?"

"It's called being _busy_, Riley. Something you wouldn't know much about." I emphasized with a pointed look. "Getting a two-inch tattoo removed isn't my first priority."

"I guess." He said, glancing down at his own hand casually, particularly at the side of his right middle finger. The one that mirrored a tattoo silhouette of an AK-47 rifle, identical to the one that I had on the side of my left middle finger.

Both tattoos being our firsts that we'd gotten together when we were both underage.

Riley shrugged again with ease before continuing. "I guess I wouldn't wanna get somethin' removed that made me cry that bad either."

I whipped my head towards him immediately. "You motherfucker."

Riley smirked in return. "I thought a sixteen-year old would have more tolerance than that, especially you. But I guess I was wrong."

"You and I both know Rossi was brand new at it, don't even play me. He barely knew what he was doing and he was heavy-handed as hell. _And_ I went first." I snapped, pulling my hand back out to take a peek. I could still remember how much it had hurt and how tender my finger had been for days. But admittedly, even though it _had_ hurt like a bitch, it actually looked pretty clean.

I gave him another glare. "Besides I think you've got me confused with _you_, as much whining as you did."

"But did I cry?" Riley scoffed. "Shit, it was almost as bad as when I made your ass cry on the court."

"Oh, you wanna go there?" I arched my eyebrow. "Cuz it was almost as bad as when little what's-his-name _whooped_ your ass on the court."

"Man, FUCK Billy Matthews!" Riley shouted at once, deadass.

And I couldn't help it, I giggled. The topic _always_ got him triggered. Personally, I really never did remember Billy's name, but Riley _never_ forgot. And probably would never let it go.

"I mean it, fuck him." Riley continued, grinning now in response to my reaction. "Rain-Man-lookin'-ass nigga. I was set up, that whole game was rigged. And if I ever see him on the street, I'm slappin' the shit outta him."

I laughed again while shaking my head, still remembering the fateful day we met and all the shit that followed. "You are _stupid_, boy."

"Nah girl, you know who's stupid?" He asked, causing me to grin back expectedly with amusement.

"Uh, Matthews?"

"Billy-fucking-Matthews." He confirmed, causing me to roll my eyes at his ridiculousness. "Ole rinky-dink lil bitch. I don't even think he was autistic forreal, I think he was playin' me. Playin' _errbody_. Tryna make me look bad."

"Well, you made yourself look bad."

"Say what?!" He exclaimed. "_How_?"

"He trolled the _fuck_ outta you." I chuckled lightly, squealing a bit when Riley suddenly rolled me on my back to pin me down.

"Shut the fuck up, yo." He snickered against my neck before he nipped at me. I giggled again when Riley trailed his hand down to tickle-squeeze my thigh. My face felt warm by the time he pulled up, propping an elbow on the bed while staring down at me.

"Quit, girl." He said, his lips still upturned as he continued to look down at me.

"Quit _what_, boy?" I gave him a look.

"You know what." He murmured, still grinning. But I honestly _didn't_ know. "Witcha cute-ass laugh."

Until he said that.

_Damn_. I felt the grin falter from my face a bit at his words. It was only then that I realized, we were close. In proximity, in conversation, all of it. Why did I have my hands wrapped around his back? Why was he _looking_ at me like that? Why were we talking so much? And dammit, why was I laughing? _Again_?

In my current world, I rarely laughed anymore. Hell, I barely even smiled anymore, genuinely. And yet, every time I was around him, he got me to do both. Easily. Repeatedly.

And that was a problem.

I gave his back a light pat with the tips of my fingers before I brought my hands from around him, sliding from beneath him to move towards the edge of the bed. "I've gotta go." I announced quietly, not looking back to meet his expression as my feet touched the ground.

"I'm sure." He mumbled from behind while I slid my feet into my pumps. Silently, I stood to walk towards the chair to grab my coat, covering my body right away before beginning to work on the buttons from the bottom up. When I turned back around, Riley had already slid on his boxers and shorts.

"I'll walk you down." He said plainly, no real expression on his face anymore.

"You don't have to, I'm fine—"

"I'm goin' to the kitchen to make somethin' anyway, c'mon." He cut me off, already starting to walk past me. I rolled my eyes at his back before following him. He conveniently always seemed to be "heading to the kitchen" right when I was leaving.

We were silent as we headed back down the stairs, the clicking of my heels once again being the only noise to fill the void. I fished my phone out from my trench pocket to compose a quick message to Roscoe.

"Plans today?" Riley spoke up suddenly.

"Yeah, work stuff." There wasn't a day I _didn't_ work.

"Heard you might be meeting with Ed and his granddad soon." He said casually, making my eyes widen. "Rummy told me. True?"

"I would _advise_ those friends of yours to keep their mouths shut." I responded in a not-so-subtle tone.

"Everything good?" Riley ignored the comment, glancing down at me as we came to the door.

"For now." I shrugged as he began unlocking the doors. "Just have to set some expectations for a future partnership regarding a project."

"You know Wuncler doesn't fight fair, right?"

"Like I _do_?" I raised an eyebrow.

"I'm just sayin'." He said, pulling open the door. "It's always somethin' with him. Always a loophole, always a scheme, always pushback."

"And you of all people should know, that I push back twice as hard." I told him confidently. "I'm not even worried about him."

"And why would you be?" Riley let out an eyeroll of his own while he smirked. "Just be careful."

"Aw, you worried about me?" I teased, matching his smirk.

"Did I say that?" He challenged.

"You're acting like it." I countered. "Trust me, I'm good."

"Yeah, I know that." He replied quietly as I glanced down to fasten my belt.

"I'm grown, Reez. I handle my shit. And I ain't about to go back and forth with these niggas." I smirked, still looking downwards to secure the knot. "So try not to worry about me too mu—"

I was cut off when Riley's hand firmly grabbed ahold of my chin and pulled my lips up into a kiss.

My eyes fell closed on their own upon contact at the feeling. It was passionate and familiar from the jump as he took control right away. Borderline aggressive, but just enough. With that same heated intensity exactly the way I remembered. The way I _liked_. The way it was when we were….

The recognition started to come back at the feeling of Riley's body pressed against mine and his hand gripping my waist, steadily tugging me even closer. My eyes snapped open as I pulled back out of his grasp immediately, instinctively giving him a mild slap on the cheek.

"What the fuck?" I demanded, breathing hard while I glared at him. It hadn't been a hard slap, as it wasn't meant to hurt him, only to get my point across. A quick reprimand. He barely reacted as he stared down at me, looking a little out of breath himself.

"My fault." His voice was slightly ragged. "Couldn't help myself."

"Seriously?" I scoffed. "You must not want to see me _anytime_ soon if you're gonna do that shit." I hissed, completely livid with him.

"You know I always wanna see you, girl." His voice was low and rumbly as his eyes drifted downwards again. "Those lips are just… worth it."

Why did he have to _say_ things like that? My brain couldn't even form a rebuttal as I looked up towards him. He stared back, licking away the slight trace of color that had transferred to his own lips. He was way too focused, his eyes practically glazed over as he continued to study me with that stupid _look_ on his face.

"Goodbye, Riley." I shook my head with an eyeroll before marching outside. My car hadn't even pulled all the way up yet. I was only just starting to see the headlights still at the far end of the driveway. Thankfully, there was no way they had seen that. I reached into my pocket for the sunglasses I'd dropped inside. It wasn't even six in the morning yet. The sun had not even risen and the sky was just beginning to lighten, but I slid them on anyway.

Upon seeing me walking, Roscoe drove up even faster, coming to a quick stop right in front of me. I began to walk to the back-passenger door, Tony having already jumped out and was pulling open the door. When I moved to go inside, I wasn't able to help myself from glancing back towards the house.

He was _still_ there, leaning in the doorway as he waited for me to get to the car, his face unreadable. I turned back just as fast and allowed Tony to assist me to slide inside.

Once the car door was shut, I reached for the purse I'd left on the seat, pulling out the compact and lipstick as I slid the sunglasses on top of my head. I glared at the imperfection in my reflection, my eyes going straight to my smudged lips. He was completely impossible. He knew the rules. And yet, that wasn't the first time he kissed me like that. And most likely, it wouldn't be the last.

Damn him. Damn him for doing shit like that on purpose. As if he was trying to make me remember. To force me to think about the memories we once shared. The way we met when we were kids. Our friendship throughout our teenage years. How we became _more_ than that overtime.

_As if I could ever forget._

I felt the sigh leave my body on its own as I continued to re-apply my lipstick. The reality was that it didn't matter now. What we'd once had was in the past. And that time was long gone. There was no going back. Everything had changed. And it was too late for what-ifs and what-could-have-beens.

_Things are different now._ I thought to myself, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My lips were perfect again. My glow was _back_. And my head was back in the game. As it should be.

"Would you like us to drive you home to rest, Miss McPhearson?" Roscoe's voice jarred me from my thoughts. By now, we had pulled out of the driveway and were finally back on the road.

I stared at myself for another moment, pursing my lips in deliberation.

"A boss doesn't rest." I replied lightly before snapping my compact closed and dropping it and the lipstick back into my bag. "Let's make a quick stop to Slickback's estate, boys. He still hasn't paid what he owes me yet. And I think it's time for another reminder."

"Yes, ma'am." They both responded audibly.

I pressed a button on the ceiling panel, lowering my shades down to cover my eyes while I did so. Rihanna's cool voice flowed from the speaker system as I glanced out the window with a smirk, readying myself for another day.

_Is it bad that I never made love, no I never did it_

_But I sure know how to fuck_

_I'll be your bad girl, I'll prove it to you_

_Can't promise that I'll be good to you_

_Cuz I have some issues, I won't commit, no not having it_

_But at least I can admit that I'll be bad no to you_

_Yeah I'll be good in bed, but I'll be bad to you_

* * *

I said what I said... THE END ;)

And thank you again for all that read and supported this mini story. And thanks again to **_marcusthevisual_ **for the literal inspiration for it entirely.


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